


Consequential Misjudgment

by bgharison



Series: Tenacious Men [4]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Danny needs sunscreen, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgharison/pseuds/bgharison
Summary: Steve’s face lit up, as if he hadn’t been awake for almost twenty-four hours straight, as if he hadn’t spent the last six dutifully applying cool, damp compresses to someone who’d foolishly gotten themselves sunburnt.  As if being allowed to take care of someone was an honor.“Nothing I’d rather be doing, buddy,” Steve said.Danny was equal parts honored and saddened to realize that was probably true.





	Consequential Misjudgment

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is in two parts -- the first can be read completely platonic and can stand alone; the second part is McDanno, and clearly marked.
> 
> Part of a series of mostly unrelated shorts based on a Philip Roth quote in a New York Times interview:
> 
> "The drama issues from the assailability of vital, tenacious men with their share of peculiarities who are neither mired in weakness nor made of stone and who, almost inevitably, are bowed by blurred moral vision, real and imaginary culpability, conflicting allegiances, urgent desires, uncontrollable longings, unworkable love, the culprit passion, the erotic trance, rage, self-division, betrayal, drastic loss, vestiges of innocence, fits of bitterness, lunatic entanglements, consequential misjudgment, understanding overwhelmed, protracted pain, false accusation, unremitting strife, illness, exhaustion, estrangement, derangement, aging, dying and, repeatedly, inescapable harm, the rude touch of the terrible surprise — unshrinking men stunned by the life one is defenseless against, including especially history: the unforeseen that is constantly recurring as the current moment."

Danny had arrived mid-way through poker night, and tolerated the good-natured ribbing about his sunburned face through the rest of the evening.

“Thought that by now, even you would have built up a base tan,” Grover had teased.

Steve had laughed along with them, and Danny had waved off Junior’s  _ ‘that looks painful, sir’ _ . Winning several hands, along with the cool beers that Steve had steadily passed him, had soothed and distracted him for a while.

But now, sitting with Steve, watching the moonlight play over the water, his skin was burning, stretched too tight over his muscles, and even the cool air and pleasant buzz wasn’t enough to dull the sensation. He shifted, and his skin pulled across the old wooden chair. Biting back a curse, he leaned forward. No, that wasn’t helpful either, not when it stretched his burned skin painfully.

“Danny?” Steve muttered, rolling his head to the side to look at his partner. “‘S’matter?”

“Sunburn, feels worse now,” Danny said. He stood up, slowly. Even in Jersey, he’d learned the hard way: fair skin and bright sun weren’t a good combination. And what was a healthy glow when you left the beach turned painful by the time the family station wagon pulled into the driveway.

“Got an aloe plant in the kitchen, break off a piece and rub it on your face,” Steve suggested.

Danny’s breath hitched as he tried to straighten. “Yeah? Should I stomp it like grapes and roll the rest of me around in it, then?”

“The rest -- wait, what?” Steve blinked up at him. “I thought you were at Grace’s cheer practice today.”

“Ah, no, we traded off. Rachel took Grace, I took Charlie to swim lessons,” Danny said. “I didn’t realize that I was going to spend the entire time in the shallow end of the pool with him.” He shivered, feeling shaky and cold, which made no sense whatsoever.

Steve was instantly alert and on his feet, a careful hand cupped lightly around Danny’s elbow.

“Come inside, let me see,” Steve said. 

“It’s just a sunburn, Steven, I’ll go home and take a cold shower,” Danny said. He shivered again, violently, at the thought.

Steve shook his head. “No way, you’re having chills. You might have sun poisoning.” He gently steered Danny toward the house. 

Once inside the kitchen, Steve started working on the buttons of Danny’s shirt.

“What the -- excuse me, I’m not a toddler, I can --”

Steve batted Danny’s hands away, deftly finishing with the buttons. He carefully, slowly eased the shirt away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Danny, Danny,” he murmured. “Shit. Sit down.” His hands hovered over Danny’s shoulders, not touching him. Danny could feel the heat radiating from Steve’s hands, and somehow, it was comforting.

Steve disappeared toward the bathroom. “Don’t move,” he tossed back over his shoulder. There were muffled noises, and then Steve was back, hands full of towels, a small kit perched on top. He plopped everything down on the kitchen table and filled a glass with water.

“Ibuprofen,” he said, as he shoved the glass at Danny and tilted a couple of tablets into his palm. “To reduce the inflammation and help with the pain. We’ll alternate it with acetaminophen, keep the levels up to keep you more comfortable.”

“Steve, I --” 

“Danny. I’ve seen this, okay? You think the sun is brutal on the island, try the desert. I hate to break it to you, buddy, but it’s going to just keep getting worse for few hours. You know, maybe we should just go ahead and take you to Queens --”

“No,” Danny said quickly. “I’m not gonna be the schmuck who has to go to the emergency room for a sunburn.”

“Okay,” Steve said. He held his hands up in surrender. “But then you gotta do what I’m saying, or I swear, you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

Danny rubbed a hand over his tired, stinging eyes, regretting it immediately. “Okay, fine.”

Steve nodded in satisfaction and looked pointedly at the pills still in Danny’s hand before picking up a towel and wetting it in the kitchen sink. Danny rolled his eyes, but tossed back the pills with a few sips of water.

“All of it,” Steve said. “Drink all of the water. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m not --”

“When was the last time you pissed?”

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it again. He drank the rest of the water, watching Steve dampen a towel at the sink and then wring it out, the muscles of his forearms bunching impressively.

“This is gonna help, Danny, I promise,” Steve said earnestly, as he turned around. Earnestly, and almost apologetically, Danny thought.

When Steve placed the cool, wet towel over his back, he understood why. It felt like being caught shirtless in a Jersey sleet storm.

“I hate you,” he mumbled.

“It will help,” Steve repeated. His eyes had that wide, worried look to them. 

“I know. Thank you.”

Steve made a scrunched up, thinking face. “Hey! Let’s go turn on a game or something, at least keep your mind off this. We need to do cold compresses alternating every twenty minutes for a few hours.”

“Hours?!”

“Danny, it’s -- basically, you’ve got a first degree burn all over your upper body. The extent, the percentage, is what’s concerning, because --”

“Okay, Science Steve,” Danny said. He felt his mouth quirk up. Science Steve always amused him, the giant nerd goof. “If you don’t mind me dripping on your sofa.”

Steve looked insulted. “It’s not dripping. I wrung it out thoroughly.”

The compresses helped, as did the Advil. As did the distraction of the movie. As did Steve, anxiously and earnestly changing compresses, and pressing glasses of water into Danny’s hands. Steve’s eyes became shadowed, tiny lines deepening at the corners.

“Steve. Go on to bed, babe. I can manage . . . I’m probably tired enough to doze a little down here,” Danny said. “This is above and beyond, even for you. It’s a sunburn, not a gunshot.”

Steve chuckled but shook his head.

“Nah, Danny . . . I know how much something like this can hurt.”

“First hand?” Danny asked, surprised. He couldn’t imagine Steve with a sunburn. He’d certainly never seen evidence of it.

“No, not me -- but, Freddie. One of our first deployments, before we really understood the intensity of the sun in the desert, we had the bright idea to set up a volleyball court. Freddie landed in the infirmary. He was . . . I mean, we’d made it through BUDs together, you know? He was one tough mother. But that . . . he was in so much pain. It was pretty bad.”

“Wow. I’m sure it was worse than this. Yeah? I mean, with these compresses, you know, I’m okay. Really. But, ah . . . probably wouldn’t have been if I’d gone home, ‘cause my plan would have been to take a couple sleeping pills and just try to put myself out of my misery.”

Steve winced at the idea. “And you would have woken up in the morning in even worse shape.”

“”S’what I’m saying. So . . . thanks. Thank you, Steve. I mean it. I appreciate it.”

Steve’s face lit up, as if he hadn’t been awake for almost twenty-four hours straight, as if he hadn’t spent the last six dutifully applying cool, damp compresses to someone who’d foolishly gotten themselves sunburnt. As if being allowed to take care of someone was an honor.

“Nothing I’d rather be doing, buddy,” Steve said. 

Danny was equal parts honored and saddened to realize that was probably true.

*#*#*#*#*

**Author’s Note: Ahoy, from this point, there be McDanno. Sail ahead or turn back, whatever . . . floats your boat.**

#*#*#*#*

“Okay, another round of Advil, and something more to drink.”

“Beer?” Danny asked.

“Are you -- alcohol, no, absolutely not, it’s dehydrating, and the effect on your blood vessels is -- what?”

Danny laughed. “Nothing. I just like to yank your chain.”

“Oh.” Steve grinned, abashed. “Ok, so no beer but . . . I have some organic apple juice, I’ll bring you some of that. Que up another movie, whatever you want.”

Danny flipped through Steve’s collection of videos. As expected, most of them involved explosions, fast cars, the Navy, or some combination of all three. He paused over  _ Top Gun _ as the image of the beach volleyball scene came to mind.

_ “We had the bright idea to set up a volleyball court . . . “ _

Images of Steve and his fellow SEALs playing volleyball rushed, unbidden, to his mind. He wondered if Steve had the ink, then, or if that came later? Steve would have been younger, in his absolute peak condition, his dog tags --

“You okay?”

Danny looked up to see Steve standing over him, a glass of juice in one hand, and two Advil on his outstretched palm. He was thankful for the sunburn that -- hopefully -- covered what he was sure was a hectic flush on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” He grabbed for the tablets and juice.

“Oh,  _ Top Gun _ ,” Steve said, glancing at the screen. “Good choice, Danny.”

Danny groaned inwardly as Steve took the remote out of his hand --  _ rude _ \-- and pressed play.

#*#*#*#*#

The thought struck Steve about fifteen minutes into the movie that this -- this was probably a bad idea. 

Having Danny sitting next to him through _Day After Tomorrow_ \-- he’d thought all that snow would be nice for Danny, take his mind off his sunburn -- had been distracting enough. Over and over, dampening compresses, draping them across Danny’s -- _broad, densely muscled, fantastically_ _defined_ \-- back . . . holding out the compress to Danny and shifting awkwardly -- _fingers twitching to help, itching to card his fingers through that soft, dense hair_ \-- as Danny placed it on his chest.

Then he’d come back into the kitchen and found Danny looking -- rather longingly, which was. . . different -- at the titles listed under the watch it again suggestions . . . noticed that  _ Top Gun _ was conspicuously highlighted. Pressing play seemed like a logical option, it was one of his favorite movies, too, after all.

And now, sitting next to Danny, feeling the heat radiating from his skin, his head listing tiredly to the side, hair falling into his face . . . Steve was remembering that in addition to the obvious Navy pilot badassery, he also loved the movie for . . . other reasons. Reasons that he’d barely admitted to himself, back when he was in the Navy. Reasons like . . . Maverick being honestly a little on the short side for a Naval aviator. So he had a little size thing, sue him. Lots of taller, bigger guys did. Freddie, for example -- Kellie was a tiny little thing. Catherine, right? Catherine was petite. Strong as all hell, sure, but she tucked under his arm.

Danny would tuck under his arm.

Danny, who had drifted off to sleep next to him. He should stand up, go to his room. He knew his argument with himself was weak, and a token. He wasn’t going anywhere, not when Danny might need him. Not when he could sit next to Danny, sleepy and soft and warm.

Shit.

This was probably a bad idea.

#*#*#*#*#

_ I’ve been lit on fire. _

That didn’t make any sense, and yet it was the only thing that made sense. Someone had lit him on fire. Doused him with gasoline, maybe, and tossed a lit match at him. He was fully awake -- had he dozed off? -- with a strangled gasp. 

“Danny? What is it, what’s wrong?”

Steve’s hands were hovering over his shoulders, careful not to touch.

“Burns,” Danny gritted out. 

Steve was on his feet, moving toward the kitchen with purpose. Danny could only sit, in agony, and wonder what he was doing. Moving seemed impossible. Not moving was agonizing. He’d had a few bad sunburns, as a kid -- all of the Williams had, they were a fair-skinned, towheaded lot as kids, and the first trip to the Jersey shore each summer usually sent a couple of them home red and miserable. But not like this. Never like this. He wondered if he should have agreed to let Steve take him to the hospital, if he was going to end up there yet.

“Hey.”

Steve’s voice was soft, cautious. He had a tube in his hand, a white prescription label affixed to it.

Danny managed a strangled groan.

“I forgot I had this,” Steve said. “From that road rash I had, remember?”

“Kono -- ambulance,” Danny gritted. “You pulled that -- crazy stunt.”

“Yeah, but it worked.”

“Your back was -- scraped to hell.”

“Yeah, and this helped. Lidocaine. It’s like -- like novocaine. Numbs. You want -- want me to --”

Danny nodded miserably and leaned forward. The first cautious touch of Steve’s fingers had him flinching in shock.

“Sorry!”

“”S’okay -- just -- it’s cold? I think? God, I don’t know. I’m sorry, you must think I’m a total putz.”

“No, Danny. Are you kidding? We had to tranq Freddie.”

Danny snorted. As Steve’s hands moved carefully, slowly, across his back, the pain and burning eased.

“Helping?” Steve asked. Soft.

“Yes,” Danny said.  _ And no. No. Not helping NOT HELPING. _

“Feels better?”

“Uh, yeah.”  _ Much better. Too much better. _

He’d thought of this, Steve’s big strong hands touching him, moving across his skin. Not like this, of course, not when every touch was painful. But with the lidocaine kicking in . . . some of the touches felt good.  _ Too good. Shit. _

“Steve, I --” he flinched away. Grabbed at a throw, tossed it in what he hoped was a casual motion across his lap.

“Sorry!” Steve’s hands flew up into the air. “Sorry, I know it hurts, I was hoping this --”

“No. It’s -- it’s helping. I -- just. Um, maybe if I could put some on my chest. My neck. You know.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Here.” Steve held the tube out to him. “I’ll, ah -- go wash my hands, get you some more water.”

Danny watched Steve’s hastily retreating back, mental kicking himself.  _ Great. Why do I gotta always wear my heart on my sleeve? He probably realized . . . probably disgusted with me.  _ He sighed, started smearing the cream on his neck, his chest. The lidocaine helped but . . . he could have sworn it helped more when it was on Steve’s hands.

#*#*#*#*#

_ Shit. Shit, this was such a bad idea. _

Steve stood in front of the open refrigerator, trying to gather his composure. His partner -- his friend -- was seriously burned, suffering. It should not have felt good to administer first aid. He never would have allowed this to happen in the SEALs. But Danny . . . Danny had burrowed under his skin from that first right hook. But if there ever was a time and place --  _ not that there would be, he told himself firmly, but if there was _ \-- it definitely wasn’t tonight. Not with Danny in pain. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the living room, pulling his considerable defenses firmly into place. 

Said defenses promptly dissipated as he stood in the doorway, watching Danny rub the cream onto his chest, his eyes closed, head tilted back, an expression of relief on his face. Steve could easily imagine that face, under very, very different circumstances. He wanted to see it. Shit, he just plain  _ wanted _ .

#*#*#*#*#

Later, neither of them could agree on who made  _ that noise _ . Steve insisted it was Danny, sighing in relief as the blessed numbing cream kicked in. Danny insisted it was Steve, cursing under his breath. They both agreed that the sound of the glass hitting the floor was what snapped them out of their mutual reveries, their eyes meeting and locking.

There was no denying the raw need they each saw reflected in the other’s eyes.

Danny held the tube of cream out to Steve, rather proud, honestly, that his hand wasn’t shaking.

“Wanna give me a hand?” he said. His voice was husky with fatigue and want.

“Danny. I --”

“It’s not a trick question.”

Steve was across the living room in three long strides. He held his hand out for the cream.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, lemme give you a hand.”  _ His _ hands  _ were _ shaking as he squeezed some of the cream onto his fingers of one hand, then tossed the tube on the table and reached for Danny’s hand and pulled him gently to his feet. He rubbed the cream between his hands, and then carefully, cautiously spread the cream across the tops of Danny’s tender shoulders. 

Danny sighed in relief and listed toward Steve, not quite losing his balance. Steve reached a hand down to his waist to steady him, wrapping a hand around his hip. Standing so close, Danny’s head was tilted back, looking up.

“You’re a giraffe,” Danny said absently, half-smiling.

Steve grinned, half amused and half predatory. He was  _ good _ at this, and he knew it. The rest -- all the rest, and his blood thrummed through his veins, thinking about  _ all the rest _ that was to come -- would have to wait, until it was safe to touch Danny the way he wanted. But he could kiss him, kiss him senseless, that wouldn’t hurt his sunburn -- and the height difference was so not an issue, and Danny was about to find out. 

Danny felt Steve’s hand wrap more firmly around his hip, steadying him, grounding him, and then his other hand reached around to cup the back of his head. The sun hadn’t penetrated his thick hair, and there was no pain when Steve threaded his fingers into the soft strands and tilted his head back, bending down as Danny met him halfway. Their lips met -- all to briefly, as far as Steve was concerned, and he made a sound of disapproval when Danny pulled back.

“Steve -- you’re sure?”

“I’m sure, why, aren’t  _ you _ sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure, but -- I’ve been sure, for a while. Like, since college. You -- I had no idea, I’ve  _ wanted _ , so badly, but I’ve never hoped that --”

Steve silenced him with a kiss.

“I mean, there was DADT, and if --”

“Danny,” Steve groaned. “I’m sure. Okay? Very sure. Emphatically sure. Sure before people asked and before I could tell, okay? And absolutely sure, that first day, when you pulled a gun on me. Just -- would you just  _ shut up _ , and --”

Apparently satisfied with Steve’s assurances, Danny’s hands were reaching up, one grabbing at Steve’s short hair and one wrapping around his bicep as he pressed up on his toes, and okay, yeah, Steve really, really liked  _ that _ , very much, thank you. He made sure that Danny had absolutely no reason to doubt his confidence, pouring his heart and soul into the kiss, into the remarkably few points of safe contact -- hip, hair, lips.

They parted, finally, both panting.

“We have lousy timing,” Danny muttered.

“I’m never letting you out of the house without SPF 75 again,” Steve said.

Danny grinned wickedly.

“What?” Steve demanded.

“You gonna rub the sunscreen on me?”

“Damn it, Danny . . . “ he growled. “When you’re better . . .”

“When I’m better, and when neither of us are running on fumes and completely exhausted, we’re going to have a long talk. But right now, this cream -- this miracle in a tube -- has taken the worst of the edge off. And while it has, and before we both pass out completely, I’m going to suggest we take this upstairs.”

“But Danny, you’re --”

“Yes, yes, I’m sunburned. It’s ridiculous, and it hurts.”

“Exactly.”

“And it’s only above my waist.”

Steve gaped at him.

“It wasn’t a nude beach, Steven. Shut your mouth, your face is gonna freeze that way.”

Danny started moving toward the stairs. Steve definitely did  _ not _ trip, following him.


End file.
